The Elves Can Wait
by bowtruckles
Summary: During Hermione's seventh year, Ron finds a way into Gryffindor Tower. Written for the 2017 Romione Fluff Fest on Tumblr.


A/N: This was written for the 2017 Romione Fluff Fest for the time and place prompt "Common Room at Midnight" and I hope that you enjoy it!

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It was the longest match that Gryffindor Quidditch had seen in seventy years - nearly ten hours long - and Hermione initially hadn't minded that, as it was a perfect excuse to snuggle up against Ron in the late April chill... but then they'd lost. And not only had they lost, but they'd lost to Slytherin. And while the animosity between the houses had been diluted somewhat since the war, old rivalries died hard, and it had been painful, genuinely painful, to watch the athletes clad in green and silver hoist the Quidditch Cup while those in scarlet and gold trudged morosely back to the changing rooms.

So while Harry took Ginny on a walk around the grounds, presumably to talk her down off the ledge, Hermione had to content herself with kissing Ron goodbye at the castle gates and reminding herself that in just two months she'd be back in London again. She would be able to see him every day if she so pleased, and she wouldn't have to rely on letters to know what was going on in his life, or try to put into written words every day how deeply she missed him, how much she needed him. She'd always been best at showing him, and he was the same way, really, even if their communication skills had improved a thousandfold from this time last year. But it was only two months. Two months, and she'd be home.

As Head Girl, it was Hermione's job to make sure that the students all made their way safely back to the castle, but as nobody but Slytherin really felt like celebrating, it wasn't difficult to herd them all back to the entrance hall. From her vantage point outside the stands of the Quidditch pitch, she could see Harry and Ginny entering Hagrid's hut, likely for a consolatory serving of Firewhiskey, and she decided to let that slide. Harry would find some way to get back to Hogsmeade so he could Apparate back to London, and Ginny, Hermione knew, would return to the castle when she was good and ready and not a second before. She gave the grounds one more cursory glance before starting back toward the castle, her footsteps slow and weary.

Even the portrait of the Fat Lady was subdued (and a bit tipsy) as she swung open to allow Hermione entrance to the common room, which was unsurprisingly empty. Had the match gone just a bit differently, there would be the rowdiest of parties underway, but now Hermione slumped onto the sofa in front of the roaring fireplace and dropped her face into her hands. The Hogwarts house elves, she knew, would be coming soon to clean up the tower, but she couldn't bring herself to move just yet. What she really wanted, more than anything, was a strong cup of tea, or better yet, a certain someone to share it with-

"You all right there?"

Hermione's stomach dropped. The common room was empty, she was sure of it, and yet there was no mistaking _that_ voice - and then just as suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and in the armchair opposite the fireplace sat Ron, looking immensely smug with Harry's Invisibility Cloak pooled at his feet. For a second she stared at the wide, lopsided grin stretching across his freckled face, and then, as his presence in the Gryffindor common room began to process in her exhausted mind, she jumped up and hurried over to him.

"Prove it," she demanded, brandishing her wand at his chest.

"Prove _what_?" he asked, disbelieving, around a laugh. "Hermione, it's me. Y'know, Ron? Your boyfriend?"

"That's exactly what a Death Eater would say, isn't it?" she maintained.

"If I was a Death Eater, I would've already-"

"Already what?" She narrowed her eyes at him, even though her resolve to be skeptical of his true identity was dwindling rapidly. "What are you planning, exactly?"

His blue eyes gleamed with mischief, and Hermione knew then what deep-down she'd always known: that this look in his eyes could only come from the real Ron Weasley.

"Nothing McGonagall would approve of, I'm sure."

As Hermione gave a playful roll of her eyes, Ron reached out and took her hips in his hands, pulling her onto his lap and laying a kiss onto the side of her neck.

"How did you get in here?" asked Hermione, shifting around to face him more fully and make herself comfortable atop his legs.

"What do you mean? I walked." At Hermione's scowl, he laughed and pressed his lips to hers - and if she'd still had her doubts about his identity, this would have completely eradicated them, because only Ron could kiss her this way, with this much affection and care behind it. "And then I waited for someone to open the portrait hole and I snuck in behind them. You forget, I'm an Auror, I can be very stealth."

There was almost nothing stealth about him - he was well over six feet tall with bright red hair - but Hermione opted not to voice that and instead kissed him again, tamping down the myriad of questions whirling in her brain. If she didn't ask him how long he planned to stay, she could pretend he wouldn't be leaving at all, she could ignore the fact that it was nearly midnight and a whole host of elves would soon be trooping in to tidy the place, she could simply be with him.

But as they tended to do, the words bubbled up out of Hermione's throat of their own accord.

"You know, I could get in a lot of trouble if we get caught," she commented when she broke away from him to take a breath.

"I don't think McGonagall can get that mad at you," Ron reasoned, skimming his hands over her thighs. "I just - well, I kinda wanted to talk to you, and I couldn't do it in a letter, I'm rubbish at letters, you must have noticed by now-"

"I noticed the summer after first year," she teased him, watching as his face pinkened, "when all of your letters were a variation on 'hope you're having a good summer but have you heard from Harry?'"

"Well - I was really worried - and so were you - and that's really not the point right now," he stuttered, exasperated as Hermione laughed into his shoulder. Her earlier fatigue had seemed to dissipate the second he had pulled her into his arms, and now she would gladly forgo sleep entirely just for a little more time with him.

"Your letters really aren't rubbish at all, you know," Hermione added, savoring the way his ears turned from pink to red. "They never were."

Seeming at a loss for how to reply, Ron angled his face up to to kiss her again. "I'm actually trying to be serious for once, though, so I think we should take advantage of this-"

"You're right," she agreed, sitting up straight. "What did you want to talk about? Is it good or bad?"

"It's good - er, well, I reckon it could go bad, but that bit's up to you-"

"Ron-"

"It's just that I've been thinking a lot lately," he began, running a slightly shaky hand down her forearm and watching their fingers intertwine. "And I've missed you so much this year - and that's okay, because I know you needed to come back and I needed to not come back, and we've survived it - but I don't want to miss you anymore."

"What?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, God, I'm so bad at this," he groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. "All I'm trying to say is that I really love you and I hate being apart, and every morning that I wake up and you're there is the best morning of my life, and when you're done with school, I want us to find a flat together."

The words, hasty and anxious and mumbled into her robes, reverberated through the quiet room, interrupted only by the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

"You… you do?" She could do no more than whisper as he lifted his face to meet her eyes.

"I've managed to save up a decent amount of money living at Grimmauld Place," Ron went on, still sounding a bit frantic, "since Harry won't let me pay rent, and I'm meant to get a pay raise in July when we go from being apprentice Aurors to actual Aurors, and - and I was looking in the Prophet and there's actually some places we could afford, even ones with a library, and-"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She kissed him, long and slow and deep, hoping she could use it to convey what she'd never been able to adequately put into words: that he didn't need to justify this with logic and common sense, that she'd live in a cardboard box with him, she'd even go back to a drafty tent in the middle of a forest, because she would be with him. Her home, she understood in that instant, had always been with him, no matter where it was.

"Stay with me tonight," she breathed, threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, their faces still close.

"But the stairs-" Ron looked vaguely dazed, like he was just recovering from a Stunning spell. "They won't let me up to your room-"

"So we'll sleep down here," said Hermione. "Honestly, I don't really care - Ron, you're right, every morning that I wake up next to you…"

She didn't need to finish the sentence; Ron gave her a broad smile and leaned in for another kiss, this one softer, sweeter, a promise.

"So is that a yes, then?"

"Of course it's a yes!" Hermione goggled at him. "Did you really think I might not want to?"

"I don't know, I just thought you might want to be sensible about it."

"You have a way of making me forget about those things," Hermione admitted, blushing herself a bit as Ron brought their linked hands up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Although, it's probably best if we sleep under the Cloak tonight."

"You think?"

"Ginny's bound to come back at some point."

Ron gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's just Ginny."

"And the elves will come in soon."

"Yeah, well." Smiling fondly at Hermione, Ron leaned in to touch his lips to the tip of her nose. "The elves can wait."

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 _Thanks for reading! Please review :)_


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